


ivory tower

by detrimentalavarice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detrimentalavarice/pseuds/detrimentalavarice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i·vo·ry tow·er<br/>noun<br/>a state of privileged seclusion or separation from the facts and practicalities of the real world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**i.**

He is everywhere.

A predicament of tasmanian devil hair and cocaine skin. John sees him first on the third Tuesday of February. The streets are a tributary of black umbrellas, the smell of recycled water prickling John’s nose. The youth stands at the ice cream stand, which bothers John because it’s obviously closed. He is immaculate to juxtapose the peeling piss, and masonry, but next to umbrella canal, he’s an eccentric tangle. The stranger’s eyes meander the streets, monitoring all, yet stopping on no one.

He looked like a typhoon; a short-lived havoc.

John hauled him out of his mind and his feet scraped asphalt while his arms swung, stinging from expatriate ocean.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! An abundance of love to anyone who reads. Tiny houseplants to the people who give kudos or feedback!

**ii.**

The second time John sees him is up a tree. He is strolling past the local uni when his eyes snare movement in the tree above him. Expecting a squirrel, a coat tail disappoints him. Today is a minimum of overcast and, squinting into the leaves, John’s eyes discern a liquorice garment made of material that is suspiciously like the wool tweed coats high fashion magazines would have sold an eon ago. His eyes take baby steps up the tree, noticing notches, unhealthy leaves and insects. He sees a foot.  
There are two paths John could take at this moment: he can scramble up the tree to discover a genius with cheekbones, or he can take a lingering last look and turn safely to travel to his doctor's appointment to get there on time. The sky feels all too big all of a sudden. John feels oddly exposed, hair at the nape of his neck prickling. The tree is a hawk and his hedgehog hair bristles. He turns and starts off at a brisk pace, but breaks into a ran at the corner.

A rustling in the tree indicates the shift of binoculars. They focus, turning until a steady image appears: the scuffed heel of the vanishing figure dissolves into the wall of the church at the end of the block.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. it'd be cool to get some reviews for feedback but hope you have a brilliant day


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